


Dark Wizard

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Based on the prompt from @lokisgame Shhhh, Will don’t. Mommy is sleeping. But what if she won’t wake up? She will, mommy always wakes up. I took some liberties with it and used the season 11 spoiler photo of Mulder at Scully’s bedside as inspiration. This is pure angst.





	Dark Wizard

That her face still retains such beauty is breathtaking. Her hair frames her face, copper against the white pillow. The delicate slope of her nose, the cut of her cheekbones, the fullness of her mouth, the slope of her chin. Her skin is pale apart from vague smudges under her eyes. You can’t look away. Dana Scully’s presence in a room is always commanding.  
Mulder sinks into the chair and by contrast wonders what the hell he must look like. His hair is greasy, his skin clammy, stubble a day away from untidy. He’s wearing the same clothes, hasn’t even shucked off his tie yet. It’s like when parents lose their children – if they change their bedrooms, move things, then they might upset the balance somehow and that child might never be found, might never come home. If he takes off his tie, if he shaves, if he leaves her for too long, she might never…  
There is a brooding silence, a thick quiet in the room, matching the heavy tugging in his guts. How many times had they been in this position? How many hospital rooms? How many charts had they accumulated between them, replete with medical jargon, dosages, observations, temperature readings? They are a medical marvel between them. Remissions and resurrections and recoveries. He takes her hand in his, smoothing the skin on the back of it with his thumb. It’s still a shock when she doesn’t react. Dana Scully is all about life.  
The door opens and William walks in. He can’t quite wrap his head around it. Two days of knowing their son. Two days out of the last 15 years. But his presence is already so familiar. A miracle of genetic coding that father and son should be able to find a deep bond after just 48 hours; or perhaps it’s another way that Dana Scully controls her world.  
William starts to speak, but Mulder raises his hand. “Shhh, William, don’t.” He wants to pull the silence around him like a heavy scarf, covering his ears, blocking out the sounds of life outside. Too much noise, too many questions, too much positing or diagnosing might disrupt the delicate equilibrium.  
The boy sits on the chair on the opposite side of the bed. He’s Scully-red and freckled, he’s blue-eyed and bright, he’s contained and introspective. But he’s long-limbed and big-nosed, he’s smart and open-minded, he’s empathetic and wondering; he’s a fusion of the best parts of them and Mulder has never felt such acute and piercing love.  
They spend an hour in the quiet, separated by their common bond, until the nurse does her rounds. In the corridor outside, William speaks now.  
“Her charts are unchanged. What if she doesn’t wake up?”  
His voice betrays the vulnerability of his years. Despite his mammoth intellect, William Van De Kamp is a child. And he’s already lost his parents. The dread of losing his birth mother too is crushing any attempt at maturity. Mulder is standing in front of a frightened boy and he has no idea what to do or what to say.  
He places a hand on his son’s shoulder, slight and bony, but there’s a wiry strength there. He squeezes, and William’s hand reaches up to cover his own.  
“We’ve done this too many times, William. Me or her, in some nameless hospital, with some nameless virus. We just don’t know how to fold. And your…Scully…is a fighter.”  
William nods and presses his lips together, eyes cast aside, pushing back his emotions like a true Scully. But his trembling breath gives him away and he doesn’t have the capacity or years of practice to hold back. A mix of embarrassment and relief washes over his face. He falls into Mulder, hot tears wicking into his shirt. Mulder lets him cry until the sobs subside before pulling back and looking at his sticky face.  
“She always wakes up. We just have to will her to do it.”  
William wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Sorcery and witchcraft? Would she approve?”  
Mulder chuffs out a soft chuckle. “I’m her dark wizard.”


End file.
